The Games We Play
by that is secret
Summary: Naraku comes upon Sesshoumaru alone, and invites him to play a bit of a game. Heed the rating.


A/N: I've been working on this for a full two months, believe it or not; it's been a LOT of work to try and get this right. I have a lot of thanks to give to lynnxlady, who beta'd both the rough draft and the second copy of this, despite the fact that she doesn't even like yaoi. ^^ She gave me some invaluable suggestions. Thanks, Jessica! ;-) Oh, and Kat. . . this is all to PISS YOU OFF! *hands you a plateful of angst and sex and violence* You know you love it.   
  
I will now give the standard disclaimer: Naraku/Sesshoumaru lemon with twist. Sem-violent yaoi demon sex. If you don't understand that this is going to be quite X-rated, then you *really* oughtn't be reading it. ^^  
  
"The Games We Play"   
  
I hadn't expected to come upon him, alone in the woods, without his minion of a toad or that little girl around. They always seemed to be close by, but they weren't this time.  
  
He stood in the hot spring, back towards me, the steam obscuring his hips and waist. His long hair floated on the water like silver thread. I was struck, like always, by the sheer beauty of his form. Even without an arm, he glittered like perfect crystals of ice.  
  
All the more pleasure to break and soil him, then. There is nothing better than shattering something like him.   
  
I stood by the edge of the spring, watching him for several minutes. I let my eyes wander over him, over the scarred and half-missing arm and the strong muscles of his other arm. Somehow, the missing limb made him strangely alluring. After a while, he spoke to me, his voice as calm as ever.   
  
"What do you want, Naraku?"  
  
I grinned, the idea having formed in my mind long ago. I had longed for this moment for several weeks, the thoughts swirling in my head like constant reminders: it's time to play - play that damnation game. "I have a proposition for you." I shed the baboon skin, letting it fall in a heap on the rocks. He turned around and watched with his golden eyes as I stripped. I took the clothes off slowly, careful to draw them across myself like raindrops over stone. I stepped in the water; it was warm, and the steam settled on my skin like a blanket.  
  
"I remember," Sesshoumaru said, "another proposition you made. I found it to be unsatisfactory."  
  
"Ah, that was business. This. . . is personal." I walked over to him, treading carefully on the rocky floor. I stopped in front of him and smiled. He stared right into my eyes with that cold gaze he wields so well.   
  
"And what," he said, "is this proposition?"  
  
I raised my hand and traced the line of his jaw, running my fingers over the crimson marks. I leaned in to whisper in his ear, and his eyes followed me.  
  
"A game."  
  
Sesshoumaru's only reaction was to raise an eyebrow. "What kind of game?"  
  
I leaned in farther, so that my lips almost touched the skin of his ear. "A competition, if you will. I'm curious to see which of us can make the other lose control first." I breathed lightly on his ear, and he took a step back so that he could look at me.  
  
He knew exactly what I meant.  
  
"Purely personal, you say?"  
  
I nodded.  
  
He stood for a moment while he thought it over. A dull haze crept over the gold of his eyes as he contemplated, and then it disappeared. "Then I accept your challenge." For the first time, the corner of his mouth quirked in what, for Sesshoumaru, passed as a smile. Ah, to wipe that tiny little smile off his face!   
  
I walked over to the edge of the pool. I could feel my hair drag on the surface of the water. A tree branch hung near; I snapped off five twigs and then broke one in half.   
  
"You know what short twig means." I held out my fist, twigs enclosed in it. Sesshoumaru drew a long with his delicate hand, as did I. He then drew another long.  
  
I could feel the ends of the twigs on my palm. Slowly, I drew out the last long one with a smile. The fool; he should have known that leaving me the fourth twig would be detrimental to him. I have never claimed to play fair.   
  
"You have short," I said, tossing the twig to him. "*Uke*." Sesshoumaru caught it and let it drop into the water. It floated there, sending out tiny ripples.   
  
I approached him, smiling still. "The rules are quite simple, but I'm sure you've guessed them already." I pushed him, and he moved backwards gracefully. I shoved him against the edge of the spring, pinning him to the rocks. His skin was smooth under my hands.  
  
I had plans to change that.  
  
Sesshoumaru's face was detached, except for a tiny glimmer in his eyes. Humor. The bastard was laughing. I snarled and pressed against him. His body was hard, well-muscled from his travels.  
  
He laughed out loud, his chest moving against mine. I narrowed my eyes in warning. He was wearing my patience thin. Sesshoumaru's hand trailed up my arm and rested on the back of my neck. Teasing. He was teasing me.  
  
I would make him hurt. Fuck him so hard that he bled.  
  
I leaned forward and licked his neck. I then cradled his head and drew it closer, kissing along his jaw. Sesshoumaru arched slightly into my mouth, hand tightening on the back of my neck. I nipped him and pulled back. He tasted strange, like water maybe; a subtle taste, one not easily discerned.   
  
His eyes followed my every movement. They were sharp and unclouded, the spark of humor replaced with something else - lust. Pure demon lust. I returned to his jaw, nibbling and suckling on the skin. Our chests were pressed tightly together and I could feel his heart beat. The rate was steadily increasing.  
  
Bored with the tame nips, I bit down hard on his neck. Sesshoumaru's claws dug into my neck, pulling my hair. He growled slightly as my teeth sliced through his skin.   
  
"Enjoying yourself?" I asked.  
  
I was surprised by his answer. He yanked my head towards his own, our noses crushing together. He paused, his mouth less than a hair's breadth from mine - I could feel the warm air coursing from between his lips. Then he closed in, pressing those lips against mine. His tongue was sinuous, like a snake in my mouth. I grinned against him; finally, Sesshoumaru was showing some passion other than hatred of that little brother of his.  
  
He hooked a leg behind my knee, wedging our bodies together. His ankles were surprisingly cold in the warm water, but heat radiated off his body. I rocked against him, and he groaned when our hips collided. Our cocks brushed, and I felt a surge of adrenaline. Oh, yes; the taking of a powerful and beautiful demon can be a pleasurable thing, and I had a feeling that *this* particular taking would be worth it.  
  
I shook my head to clear it of the haze that was developing, and then shoved him roughly up onto the rocks. He bit his lip; some of the rocks were particularly sharp. It made me want to laugh. Partly out of the spring, his body glistened with sweat and water. I kissed his chest, savoring the salty taste and the lust that seemed to roll off him like the steam off the water.   
  
Whoever would have thought that the calm and cold Sesshoumaru, Lord of the Western Lands, could possess anything resembling sexual passion?  
  
"Is this how you are with your human girl?" I taunted in his ear. It would be interesting to see the little brat's innocence shattered, broken into a thousand pieces. And although I knew Sesshoumaru had not - would not - do such a thing, it produced quite a gratifying result.   
  
Anger flashed in his eyes; he growled and raked from my neck to my hip with his claws. Within seconds, I could feel the blood seeping from the wounds. Ah, Sesshoumaru, tsk tsk. . . gratifying indeed. I am masochistic at times. Pain, in all its forms, is pleasure to me.   
  
"You *dare* to speak of-"  
  
I covered his mouth with mine, biting the soft flesh of his lip. "I dare."  
  
He latched his hand around my throat, digging in with blood-covered claws. I grinned at him and kissed him once more. "You're going to lose control." It was, perhaps, not the control I had originally imagined him losing, but any trap is sufficement in these games.   
  
He narrowed his eyes, but released me. His face was cold and stern again, but the heat from his body belied the stony expression. "You will pay later."   
  
I ignored him and tangled my hands in his hair. The strands flowed over them like heavy silk. He really had beautiful hair; even mine was never so thick or water-like. Mine was less restrained, wilder - the difference between us, I suppose. He does not show emotion; I am not afraid to. They respect his cold face; they fear my wild eyes.   
  
And he would fear me, too. I was determined on that. I would bring this strong, lovely creature to his knees if it took me an eternity to accomplish it. After all, we had all the time in the world.  
  
I pushed him farther up onto the rocks and bit down on his lip once more. My teeth sliced through the delicate tissue; he growled again. It would not really do to make him furious at this moment; I had done enough with the comment about his human girl. Making him furious would come later, after toying with him and making him think he was safe. I stroked his chest and he stopped, trailing off into a slight sigh. He responded both to gentle touches and rough, and it was interesting to see the way he would change in said responses.   
  
Just like a dog, wasn't it? Treat him gently, and he will bask in your attention. Hurt him, and be bitten. Ah, to turn *him* into a pet, a lackey - that was an interesting concept. Sesshoumaru on a leash.   
  
I dug my nails into his shoulder, not enough to draw blood but enough to leave marks. I could smell the anger flare up in him at being treated in such a way. But. . . still. . . there was something else. Something that smelled differently.  
  
By all the kami, I could smell pleasure.   
  
I chuckled to myself. Ah, so the pretty boy liked it dirty? Was just as masochistic as I? Interesting. Quite interesting. Extremely interesting, in fact. Amazing the things one learns during foreplay in a hot spring with one's enemy.   
  
I pressed down, pinning him. He moved up towards me, an indescribable look on his face. And then the corners of his mouth quirked again, and this time it would pass as a smile for anyone, not just him.   
  
It was unnerving.   
  
I licked his jaw, and then began to move south. I couldn't shake the feeling that he was toying with me as much as I was toying with him. I bit his nipple a bit harder than I intended, and was rewarded with the feel of his nails digging into my shoulder. I ran a hand over his stomach, tracing the line of the muscles with my fingers. He tilted his head back with a sigh. Damn happy bastard, enjoying himself like that. I touched the skin of his thighs, and he quivered. I kissed him, my face brushing against his erection, and he groaned. I chuckled and rested my hand on his stomach again, teasing him.   
  
I sat up a bit and looked down at him. That smile, that insane little smile, was still on his face, and I greatly desired to wipe it right off him. But that would come later, that it would, and for now I felt like setting him up for the fall. I leaned down and kissed the smile gently, straddling his hips. He wrapped his arm around my neck, pulling me close. For a moment, a memory of Onigumo's flashed through my mind. A strong and handsome Onigumo and a beautiful girl, wrapped in each other's arms in the middle of a meadow; I pushed it away. Unfortunately, the feeling of contentment - comfort - *happiness* that always came with memories like that didn't leave, and I suspected it had something to do with the way I was half-lazily entwined with Sesshoumaru.   
  
I growled and hardened the kiss. I hated it when such memories resurfaced; I had tried to banish them long ago. The memory finally went away when Sesshoumaru broke the kiss and begin to suck on the base of my neck. The feeling of his tongue, slightly rough and almost feline, brought me back to the present. I shuddered slightly when he nipped at my collarbone. He was surprisingly skilled, for being such a cold and unfeeling little fish.   
  
I pulled his head away from my neck and dropped a kiss on his forehead. He quirked his eyebrows, surprised. "Ready, uke?" I asked, pressing our faces together. I had to get Onigumo out of my head, and I'd be damned if I was going to be nice or gracious about it. This was a game. I was surprised enough that I'd even asked him.   
  
I took the fact that Sesshoumaru's kiss drew blood to be a yes, as well as the way he wrapped his legs around me.   
  
I entered him hard. I didn't bother with anything regarding lubrication, or stretching - what was the use of being kind, when my whole reason had been to be cruel? He cried out in pain, a soft little moan like music. A shiver ran down my spine at the sound.   
  
The water swished around my ankles as I moved on top of him, and the rocks cut into my knees. Sesshoumaru's claws were digging into the back of my neck, piercing the skin and drawing blood with each thrust. I could feel it run over my skin, and saw a drop fall on his chest. I lapped it up and kissed him. He licked the blood right off my tongue; then he moaned into my mouth.   
  
The reverberations from his moan seemed to travel down my jaw, into my chest and settling in my stomach. It was a heady feeling, one I recognized and barely remembered.   
  
Real, actual pleasure from being with someone. I clenched my jaw. Onigumo again. . . and not even the evil Onigumo, the Onigumo that was my "father." No, it had to be the Onigumo of before, the one that had been a normal human. I mentally damned him once again, and thrust harder. Sesshoumaru gave a strangled cry, and his claws dug in extra-sharp. His eyes were wide open, the gold of them bright and piercing. For some reason, they reminded me of apricots. I could see the pain, even anger - and I could also see the pleasure of the masochist in Sesshoumaru. I pushed him farther up against the rocks, and that masochist in him moaned.   
  
I bit down on his shoulder, and he arched up towards me. He was breathing heavily, and the moist air rushed over the back of my neck, lifting my hair. I shuddered from the sensation, a tingle spreading down my back. Ah, Sesshoumaru. . . who would have known?  
  
He shifted underneath me, and I nearly cried out. The tingle was spreading farther. He pulled my head down and kissed me. His tongue tangled with mine, and his fangs nicked my lips. Sesshoumaru's mouth reminded me of his apricot eyes - yielding but firm. And sweet, so sweet; like a deadly tooth-and-tongue candy, with tissue-wrapper lips tied up with the sweaty strands of black and white hair that fell over our faces.   
  
Sesshoumaru moved underneath me again just as I moved on top of him, and I heard, as if from a distance, his moan as he orgasmed. A moment later, it felt as if my whole body had spasmed, and I bit my tongue to keep from doing the one thing I could not do. I would never say his name. . . no. Not even when it was about to roll out of my mouth, not even if he had just played my body like Genji played his kin.   
  
I collapsed on top of him, my cheek resting against his. I could still feel his breath underneath my hair as he panted. His arm was looped around my lower back, just one claw resting against my skin. It had been a good game, even if I had come dangerously close to losing. Would that all games felt so terribly *good*.  
  
I withdrew from him, standing up in the water. There was blood and semen mixed together on his thighs, and I leaned over and licked the stained pale skin. He groaned and sat up. His eyes were clouded; not dull, but covered in a misty sheen. He pulled me towards him, and something - perhaps Onigumo again - compelled me to wrap my arms around his waist. I could feel the cuts and blood from the rocks on his back. The skin was rough and wet under my hands.   
  
He kissed my neck, the kind of lazy kiss that always seems to come after a good fuck. I held him tighter, pressing him against me. He smelled like sweat and semen and blood.   
  
He smelled good.   
  
His hand wandered from my neck down my shoulder and to my chest. Before I knew it, he had slashed across my chest with his claws, curving his hand in a half-circle. I looked down, and a perfect crescent moon-shaped cut bled on my chest.   
  
"Just so you remember," he whispered. "Round one." I growled.  
  
He wasn't the only one who could keep score. I held my hand up against his own chest and let a tiny trickle of the miasma pour out. It wasn't close to being enough to hurt him, it was such a small amount, but it would leave a mark. He bit his lip, trying to field off the pain as it burned his skin. I withdrew my hand, and peered down at the mark.   
  
The black spider stood out harshly against his pale skin.   
  
"Come play again," I told him.   
  
:::finito:::  
  
Note: The reference to Genji and his kin refers to "The Tale of Genji", which I'm currently reading and adoring. Genji was, simply put, an amorous lord of feudal Japan. Among his many talents and wonders, he played the kin, a seven-stringed traditional Japanese instrument, quite well.   
  
:::play and burn and bleed::: 


End file.
